A Son's Confessions
by utdfan22
Summary: Johan reflects on those he has lost and gained while sitting at his Mother's grave. He does so in his usual manner. The event is experienced through Johan's musings that he shares with his Mother. Note: Little is actually made of the Mother's character i.e. only Johan's brief potentially inaccurate/ overtly flattering comments to her.


**Johan's P.O.V.**

I wonder how long it's been since I last sat here. Far too long to keep a lady such as you waiting, I'm sure. I wandered far and wide in to ensure that I had the finest flowers to give you for our reunion. The prettiest white flowers I could find to match the porcelain perfection of your skin. Of course, you already know that I hold you in the highest of esteem. Have you seen much since our last chat Mother? I understand the graves were tended by some of the rebels after the liberation army took Rivough. One such as you still deserves the treatment of a Queen… even if Father was ultimately exposed as a poor King. I hope you don't hold his death against Sir Celice, he would have preferred to spare us this dreadful war but his hand was forced. At least that is my impression of the new Emperor. Ah, it was such a glorious celebration of the forces of justice at the end our hard battle. Sorry Mother, I know you were fond of Emperor Alvis and Empress Diadora but things change. The child hunts may have been after your time but we can have no doubt to their vile nature. However, Father was not the worst of his ilk; please do not think him so. He allowed the child hunts certainly but his laziness meant they were not as strictly enforced here in Isaac as they were abroad. So, do not fight. No son ever wishes to bring his parents to conflict.

You may have noticed my loneliness on this fair spring morn. Johalva has not simply forgotten I'm afraid. I wish I could have told you sooner but… a part of me intended to be a martyr of legend. The glorious axe-warrior riding into battle upon a valiant stead and slaying thousands of evildoers before falling victim to death. That and I was feeling rather empty on that day. The day that the first true battle of the war claimed my deserving Father and my more innocent Brother. He fought for love, his bitter jealousy spurring him on as he challenged me for Lady Lakche. Whatever judgement the fates hold for him should also be saved for myself as I know in my heart that the pain would have roused me to battle just as swiftly and needlessly as it did he.

I wonder if you've met wherever your souls have come to rest now. If so, is he still upset that our fight ended so piteously with Lord Celice's sword pushed through his stomach in a chaotic flurry? He won our duel, knocking me from my horse, forcing the axe from my hand with his always superior strength, appearing for the entire world like a true noble of our line. Like the hero he was destined to be. Like the crass man I was so proud to call my younger Brother once I was within the recesses of my own thoughts. But Lord Celice came to my rescue, cutting him down before he could decide to end mine own life. On that day I did not see a murderer in my Brother's eyes, and a part of me weeps at the possibility we could have both served justice together if he had both been the sparer and the spared. At least tell him, Lady Lakche is well; I know dearly departed Johalva would be happy to hear this, to not have to watch her funeral from above as this continent's dreadful bloodshed enters history once more.

You met her once I think, yes when I was still too infantile to appreciate her great beauty and Johalva had only just released his grip on your skirts to begin his journey towards the prideful brashness that characterised him. The excitable maiden desperate to proclaim herself the greatest swordswoman in the world to any who would hear her tale.

As a sidenote to that story, she has achieved her dream, blending the Isaacian blade with the Dozel family's mighty strength to incredible effect. But that isn't why I wish to speak of her with you dearest Mother. She is no longer simply the girl to whom I have pledged my affections for the rest of my mortal days. She has now come to offer her heart to me as I had to her so many years ago. The concession must be made that she is decidedly less enthusiastic about declarations of love but you must understand that the women of her kind are… decidedly more stubborn in these matters than one might find appropriate.

But do not mistake the lady's aloofness in the matter for coldness, most wonderful Mother. It is merely her predisposition to displaying the bulk of her affection through the steel of her sword and the sureness of her swing, protecting those she holds closest to her with a passion that matches even my hottest flashes of emotion. We are to be wed and, as I understand it, her Brother, Lord Skasaher holds no quarrel with the affair, chuckling at his Sister's awkward blush due to some sibling squabble that sailed over my head. He remarked that the Lady hadn't been honest to her word when we last visited Dozel's inheritor (following my abdication due to Father's disloyalty to House Dozel's good name). Whatever that implies, I hope he does not means the Lady has spoken ill of me in her previous ignorance. To stain those pretty, pink lips with any form of insult is beneath their Goddess' worth.

I've begun rambling again. Lakche says it's just something that I do, a sign of my narcissism, although she rather less eloquently phrased it at the time. Still the tenderness of her tone actually surprised me; I had definitely become too accustomed to her subtle rejections before our courtship. Regardless, she was right, Mother, but I cannot help it that my tongue rushes to the language of poets whenever my voice ascents to meet the world.

Er, I am wandering again in my focus, aren't I. Hah, I guess I should be preparing to leave, the sun is reaching its peak now so I've already spent the entirety of the morn to catch you up on events. We will be in Isaac for some time, so I swear upon my honour as a man that I shall come visit you again before I return to Grandbell. Now I have another wedding to attend, that of the Isaacians' King Shanan. So, I had best ensure my fiancée is not wearing her commoner's garb for the event. Battle clothing is fine for a soldier's honourable discharge from their liege but an event of love requires a rather more splendid touch of fashion. Wouldn't you agree? Despite this, I have no doubt she would be the most gorgeous creature in the room, even clothed only in rags and caked in dirt. Ah, love does such wonderful things to our viewpoint, does it not?

No more going off topic sweet Mother, it is time I leave. The great halls of Isaac's capital call to me once more. I pray that you look upon my exploits with a benevolent gaze despite my transgressions. Mother, I pray you can be proud of me from your resting place. Proud of Johan, gallant Great Knight of House Dozel, husband of its finest swordswoman and humble servant of the Grandbellian throne. Proud of your little boy who wishes his kin could still walk with him as he attempts to build a peace in which they could have happily spent their days. Goodbye, Mother, we shall meet again before my feet leave Isaac's soil. That I promise.


End file.
